Bleeding Strings
by monkiainen
Summary: How are you supposed to fix something that both right and wrong the same time? A sequel to "The Morning After", although you don't have to read it necessarily.


_**Chapter 1**_

Brennan woke up with a start. She wasn't exactly sure what had woken her so suddenly until she saw Booth standing by the window. It was then when all the events of the previous night came crashing down on her. Brennan had slept with Booth. Repeatedly. And it had been great, as far as she could remember.

Brennan's memories from the night before were vague at the best. Maybe it was the tequila she and Booth had drunk to forget the gruesome case they've just had. Or maybe it was her subconsciousness trying to keep her sane by preventing her not remembering. Then again, it could also be Brennan's strong sense of right and wrong – what she and Booth had done was unforgivable. It didn't matter that Brennan had had feelings for Booth quite some time. Booth was with Angela, probably for eternity, and Brennan had no right to meddle with their relationship. And yet she had done it, and there was no going back.

Brennan took a deep breath and started making her way out from the bed. Just then Booth turned around and their eyes met for a second. Brennan barely suppressed her breath of shock – Booth looked as if the flames of Hell itself were tormenting him. Which they probably were, Booth being a Catholic and a man of honour. Without a word Booth collected his belongings and vanished from the bedroom door, leaving Brennan alone with her regretful thoughts.

* * *

On his way home all Booth could think was how incredibly stupid he had been of late. There was the stupid fight with Angela. What was wrong with wanting to get married and having children? True, Angela was a bit more… liberally raised than Booth was and traditional family values (as Booth's mother liked to call them) didn't have as much importance to her than to Booth. Still, it was no excuse for Angela to sulk for days after Booth had made a simple suggestion. Not that the sulking had been the most irritating part of Angela's behaviour of late. No, it was Angela's decision to kick Booth out from their bedroom and force him to sleep on the coach. Not only was it uncomfortable, but as a healthy, athletic man Booth had certain… needs, one could say. Self-inflicted pleasure, as enjoyable it was, made Booth sometimes feel a sort of dirty about himself. Not much, but enough to give Booth a guilty conscience of sorts. Paid company was out of the question, and porn… well, it all came down to the guilty conscience of sorts. And just because Angela thought they could have an open relationship it didn't mean Booth agreed with her.

Then why exactly Booth had slept with Brennan last night if he didn't agree with Angela? For the life of him Booth had no idea. Maybe it was time to do some serious soul-searching.

* * *

"_Bless me father for I have sinned…"_

* * *

Brennan thought and thought. The more she kept on thinking, the more confused she became. Anthropologically thinking what she and Booth had done was merely biological. Booth was a typical alpha male with a need to spread his seed, so to speak. From Brennan's view, anthropologically speaking, the events from the previous nights were only natural. So how come Brennan didn't feel natural at all?

"Morning sweetie! Have you seen Booth this morning, he didn't come home last night? Can't blame him though, things haven't been easy as of late."

"Oh?"

Before Angela could continue, Zach busted in waiving the newspaper of the day.

"You won't believe this! David Adams has escaped!"

Wave of disgust hit Brennan even for the bare mention of the name. In order to prove Adams guilty of the rape and murder of a 6-year-old boy called Tim Cochrane, Brennan and Booth had found evidence of Adams molesting and possibly murdering other kids as well, and thus saved him for being executed for the time being. Ironically, Booth had been the arresting officer three years before – a fact Booth didn't like to reminded of.

"I'm sure you've all heard the news by now."

Everybody turned to Booth, who looked more tired than ever.

"How could he escape?", Hodkings demanded.

"We don't know yet. All we know he's been missing for at least 24 hours, if not more."

Others suspected the ragged look Booth had was only a result of the disturbing news. But Brennan knew better. Booth looked that ragged only when he had a guilty conscience. Even though Brennan didn't believe in God, it didn't mean she wouldn't respect other people's beliefs. And because Booth was a believer, she had to do something to make things right again.

* * *

Booth couldn't believe his luck. What he had in mind for the day didn't include chasing a mad pedophile on the run. He was more inclined to stay inside the whole day and make the events of previous night disappear miraculously. But no, Lady Fortune hadn't been in Booth's side for a while so now he was stuck in the Jeffersonian Institute for what was probably days, if not weeks.

"We need to talk."

Booth froze in place, trying to make Brennan disappear by ignoring her.

"I know you can hear me Seeley."

Booth cringed involuntarily – Brennan only called him Seeley when she was determined to dig up his inner thoughts. Booth turned around slowly, not daring to look Brennan in the eyes. God knows what he would see there.

"I'm sorry."

The words were whispered so quietly that if Booth hadn't been listening carefully he would have missed them. The silence was getting thicker and thicker, both parties lost in words. For the life of him Booth didn't know what to say to a woman, a friend, whom he had slept with last night. He wanted to think that it didn't mean anything, that it was only a glitch, but the words refused to come out from his mouth.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth, you might want to see this."

And the moment was gone.


End file.
